God Help The Outcast
by Euphoric Lolita
Summary: Jody Niccals, a college art student, finds herself at the mercy of the Green Flu and is infected. Now a Witch, and with the help of a dear friend, she will have to struggle to get answers from CEDA, and keep herself from losing all control. Please, R&R!
1. I Thought We All Were Children of God

**Euphoric Lolita, in association with , is proud to present...  
**

**God Help the Outcast: A Left 4 Dead Story.**

**Chapter One: A Witch's Chronicle**

_Well, I suppose it would be best to introduce myself. You'll soon hear my story. Might as well record it, so I'm not just another person to be forgotten. After all, the Infected have the right to tell their own story._

_My name is Jody. Jody Leanne Niccals, to be exact. Composed of my mother's best friend's name, my great-grandmother's name, and my father's surname. I guess I like what I was given. In human years, I'm four months away from turning nineteen. Before the Infection - or, what are they calling it now; the Green Flu? - I attended a small private art school that I absolutely adored. I was going for a Bachelors in Fine Arts, with hopes of attending graduate school in New York City._

_That's when I first heard about the Infection. It was the second semester of my freshman year. I was sitting in my college's coffee lounge on one of the large armchairs. I can remember the report clearly, blasting from a plasma screen on the wall: "A new, wild form of rabies has begun to affect several towns on the East Coast." Sure, I thought at the time that some mongrel mutt had escaped and was biting people. I laughed; the movie _Quarantine_ was coming to fruition. Then again, I lived in New York. The report centered around southern Pennsylvania. I had nothing to worry about._

_But I was dead wrong. The disease began to spread like wildfire. Several brave newscasters stepped out into the streets, catching images of what appeared to be people, covered in blood, attacking fleeing civilians. The attackers had ghostly white skin, some with bizarre growths on them, and sharp, crooked teeth. Why they focused on those who were caught only to be ripped apart astounded me, but then again, the news does focus around the world's turmoil. Still, I had a feeling that I had nothing to worry about._

_That's when four letters forever embedded themselves into my brain: CEDA. The Civil Emergency and Defense Agency. The people in my town _hated _them. Forms were passed out at my school, to give my name, age, and the whole nine yards. It was like filling out high-school safety forms all over again. The moment the papers were placed in my hand, I had called my parents, whom I had not heard from in several days. And for good reason: they had been evacuated. Our house was boarded up and my parents had been airlifted with some others in the town to get to the nearest recreation center for protection and military surveillance. For those of you who read in books that a character's "blood turned cold," and are in disbelief that such a thing could happen, then you obviously don't know what I felt that day._

_That day was also the last day I heard my parents' voices. I never got to tell them I loved them._

_There were preparations made for a good portion of the students to be boarded up inside the campus gymnasium. That was when the disease was practically on our doorstep. I was told to bring only three sets of clothes, a coat, and an extra blanket. My favorite stuffed animal, Boodles the Beagle, was to be left in my dorm building, which would be quarantined. No use bringing anything that can take up necessary space, a CEDA official had told me as he wrestled the animal from my grasp. I was losing everything: connections to my family, my beloved childhood keepsake and safety blanket, and now my safety. My sanity was definitely sure to follow next. Oh what fun that would be..._

_Unfortunately, our base, in the end, was a little under being "fully secure." Three days after sleeping on cold fitness mats on the gym's floor, we heard the doors being flung open. Members of CEDA, guns in hand, tried to keep a group of Infected citizens from entering. I remember seeing a few of them outside of campus before the Green Flu. The owner of the corner deli, a waitress from my friends' favorite diner, a man who used to jog in neon-green shorts past campus every morning...they were all there. Some were begging to be let in, to be saved. Others had nothing but a soulless look in their eyes and their elongated nails in the air, striking and slashing at the others. The three or four CEDA members shot each one down, making a heap of carcasses on the floor. I saw the whole thing, and I had run off to a vacated corner of the gym to vomit. That's when I heard a blood-curdling screech. My eyes turned and I spotted a hooded Infected person, with sharpened nails about an inch and a half in length and thick, pinning a CEDA official to the ground, tearing his uniform off and shredding his skin. That's when all hell broke loose. Students went screaming, pushing past CEDA members guarding the two other exits. Both staying in that gym and walking outside would lead to a trap, but what could you expect? It is in human nature to run from danger._

_I was one of the mob of students to escape from the exit on the south side of the gym. We all took off, but we seemed to fan out, running in different directions. We ran straight into a Horde of at least twenty Infected. I had dodged most of them, but would soon feel something pull my leg out from beneath me._

_It was slippery, and almost felt like rubber. I heard something coughing, and the moment my mind gave the sound credit of existence, I was on my stomach, being pulled into the clutches of what I believed to be the one to take my life. My eyes turned and I spotted it. He was a scrawny thing, with a jawline and neck covered in goiter-like growths and cysts. It made horrible slurping noises as it pulled me in, claws on its swollen hands at the ready. I was hanging by my ankle in the air, clawing at the ground in a hopeless attempt to escape, screaming for help at a time when no one would come. I felt its hands grip my leg, and the stinging sensation of its teeth sinking into my ankle._

_I screamed in both agony and fear, and for some reason I found the energy to send my foot back in the form of a hard kick to its face. It's tongue released me and it covered its eyes - the bull's-eye I had hit - as it stumbled around in pain. I crawled away as fast as I could, looking down and seeing a small chunk of my flesh missing. The pain didn't matter; I had to escape. That's when I found a dumpster and hoisted myself into it while the other Infected, including my captor, were preoccupied. I closed the door, and sat in silence, waiting for the area to clear._

_About two hours later, I peeked my head out and felt the vomit rise in my throat again. Two cars in the parking lot were on fire. Bodies of Infected people and my fellow students adorned the pavement. Empty bullet shells seemed to glow and covered every foot of the lot. It seemed as if the world had come to an end. The only sound I could hear was the sound of the fire crackling as it ate away at the cars. I lowered the dumpster door down again and sat there. I couldn't tell whether or not it was for seconds or minutes or hours, but after sitting there, thinking about nothing in particular, I began to cry. I pulled my legs to my chest and rocked myself back and forth, crying harder than I ever had before. If you could hear me, I'm sure I sounded rather pathetic. Not like I would care if I did. I was convinced that I would die in that dumpster._

_I felt my ankle throbbing, throbbing as my stressed heart struggled to pump more blood into it, which only ran out into my shoes. My eyes were closed tightly, but they began to open, as if meaning to see what the damage was with only a crack of light coming from outside. Then it hit me: I could see! How could I see in pitch black? I saw every piece of garbage sitting aqt the bottom of the dumpster with me, and I saw my leg. Leaking blood, but not gushing it like some bad horror-movie effect. Hoisting myself up on the side of the dumpster, I found that the pain was starting to fade, though my pulse continued to make itself known through the wound itself. I had to see what had happened in the sunlight, and the second I pushed the door open all the way, I caught a glimpse of my hand. The skin was white. White! My nails also seemed to change, too, looking as if I hadn't broken them in quite a long time. Plus, they were black as the shirt I wore. No, I wasn't wearing nail polish on that day._

_Lifting myself out of the dumpster and onto the ground, I found the strength to walk back to my dorm building. I didn't even care if an Infected person came up to me and clawed me to death. Then again, they'd probably recognize me as one of their own anyway. I looked like the walking dead. As I reached my floor via elevator, I took out the key from my pocket and walked out toward my room. Fiddling with it a moment so it would go into the hole, I pressed the key into the lock and turned it. I then entered my room, pulling the key out and turning the lock on the opposite side of the door. This room, the one which had been the home of so many parties and movie nights for my friends, was now both my safehouse, and my tomb._

_That's when it occurred to me. The mirror...I had to see for myself what I had become. My fingertips throbbed from my growing nails as I looked at my reflection in horror. My skin was white and gray. My nails were forming claws. My eyes...the bright green eyes that I had forever treasured as my favorite body feature, were now a bloody crimson._

_In an act of desperation, I ran to my bed and dove beneath the covers, where Boodles seemed to be waiting for me. I clutched him against me, and could only find relief in crying again._

_My name is Jody Niccals. I am a Witch. Why has your so-called God left me to die like this?  
_


	2. Family

**Thanks for the feedback, readers. Hopefully, I can get even more with this chapter. Let's see how Jody deals with her completed transformation.**

Chapter Two: Family

_I'm ugly..._

_No, I'm not just saying that like other teenagers do, for the pure sake of getting attention in the form of cheap flattery. I really am _ugly_. My peach skin is white, dirty and grimy. I haven't been able to shower in days, and I feel like scum for it. My fluffy auburn hair that I used to pin up with hair bows and colorful plastic clips is white, and also grimy. My claws have gotten longer since the day I was bitten. My hands are almost completely black now._

_And then there are my eyes. Don't even talk to me about them. I look like some demon thrown out of the lowest levels of Hell. But no. They at least are somewhat lively. I was able to learn through a CEDA broadcast on my TV that I can pass as a rare type of Infected. That I was a Witch. And what do they show as an example? Some emotionally-distraught, anorexic-appearing woman curled up on the ground who when disturbed, loses all control on her senses. Her only purpose is to kill the one who provoked her. The one on the TV wasn't able to escape CEDA. They threw something called a pipe bomb in front of her, which went off when she was barely a foot away. They blew her up. _They blew her up. _My room, when I last checked, now smells like death _and _vomit._

_I stayed in that dorm room for two days. I couldn't even think about eating, or drinking, or sleeping, or even living. Hell, I couldn't truly live anymore. I was now supposedly some rabid, monstrous creature who would soon develop the voice of a harpy and wreak havoc upon anyone to cross my path. There was no life to live for me. I just remained in that room, away from the window._

_After two days, I heard the emergency exit doors to my floor of the building open, and for a split second, my heart raced. It was either a beacon of hope, or the opportunity to walk into another trap and be at CEDA's mercy. Yet, something accompanied the sound of those large metal doors being open: heavy footsteps, and a low growling sound._

_I was terrified. Before I could get the opportunity to run, the door was busted open. Well, shit. I was positive that either a Horde of zombies would rush in to end me, or that even members of CEDA would come in and wipe me out. Either way, the outcome didn't seem pleasant, and I couldn't seem to put two and two together that that growl wasn't man-made. Instead of who I was expecting, two figures walked in. One of them was about my height, maybe an inch or two taller, in a hoodie and cargo pants. His ankles, wrists, and upper arms were bound with duct tape. Behind him was a creature unlike anything I had ever seen. It was a large man who struggled to even fit through the doorway. His head was human-sized, but the girth of his body was incredible. If you are desiring a visual image, think Arnold Schwarzenegger back in his body-building days pumping his chest and arm muscles full of air. His muscle mass looked as if it would envelope his head!_

_"Well...what do we have here?" the hooded creature asked. He had walked in somewhat crouched down, and approached me now. I whimpered and held my stuffed animal, trust Boodles, up for protection._

_Wait a moment..._he _could talk? I had seen something like him, that day my school was attacked, and he was nothing like the beast that went feral on the CEDA officials babysitting us. They had a name for his kind, too: Hunter. The gargantuan Infected behind him was known as a Tank, considered one of the most dangerous by CEDA. I had to play things cool._

_The Hunter saw my stuffed animal and chuckled with another growl, stepping closer to me. His clawed hand reached out and gently pushed Boodles away from my face. I was able to get a good glimpse of his and almost froze in place staring at him. "What? I'm not gonna hurt you," he said calmly, though his voice was incredibly scratchy. "Use your common sense, girl. Would I be socializing with you if I only mean to kill you?"_

_I swallowed a pool of saliva that had formed in my mouth, and slowly shook my head. "N-No, I don't think so..." I replied, the fear obvious in my squeaky voice._

_"Good girl," the Hunter said, smirking. I saw his sharp teeth and shuddered. "Now, my name is Jeremy. The oaf outside in the-" He turned around and let out a short burst of laughter. "-doorway, he's a Tank. His name is-"_

_"Roy," the Tank finished, his voice fierce and of a rather high volume. "Why girl in room by herself?" Obviously, if you were "lucky" enough to become a Tank, your use of proper sentence structure shrank exponentially. _

_"Hiding." I sniffled and held onto Boodles for dear life._

_"As you should be." Jeremy gave one curt nod and tried to stand up straight, though he appeared to struggle with breaking out of his crouching habit. "But, miss... Wait, what is your name?"_

_"Jody."_

_"Jody, CEDA could easily come into this building, hunt you out and kill you. It's already under quarantine. That damn organization will either blow up quarantine buildings, or go in with Hazmat suits and search every room. Then again, that usually ends up with them being obliterated, too..." The Hunter's dark eyes wandered back down to me, and his expression softened when he saw me losing what little "cool" I had left._

_"You scaring her!" The Tank known as Roy let out a huff of air in agitation. I was glad he was on my side._

_"Yeah, I thought as much..." Sighing, Jeremy pushed his hood off his head and ran his claws in exasperation through his shaggy black hair. "Sorry, it's just hard to stay one-hundred percent positive during times like these."_

_I nodded, my body uncurling from the ball it once formed. "I guess you're right."_

_"Well, Jody, seeing as how you are on your own, and you're best if you travel with a group that can protect you until you can fend for yourself, I suggest you come with me and Roy. The ordinary Infected aren't the smartest things though they know we're among their kind, and they'll easily attack you for food. We can fend them off." Then he held out his hand to me. "C'mon."_

_And, of course, that's when the Jody who refused to be a baby any longer had a question. "Wait a damn minute," I said, placing Boodles on the bed and standing up. "You come waltzing into my dorm room and offer me protection, and after a few minutes of socializing you expect me to trust you and immediately team up with you? How do I know that you don't have a Horde waiting outside the building for me? And another thing: how the hell did you know I was here? It's like you just came up onto my floor and barged into the room._

_Jeremy growled a sigh and hung his head at a slight angle, before one of his claws pointed toward the window. I could have smacked myself in the head when I noticed that it was open. Not enough for someone to fit, but enough for me to notice that it was cracked a decent amount. "The sound of your crying can travel up to an acre," the Hunter explained. "Roy and I were passing by, patrolling the area, and we heard you. Yet at the same time, we heard actual words of the English language mixed into your sobs, and I was curious, so we came to investigate. And so, here we are now."_

_I could only sigh and rest my face in my palm, careful of my elongated claws. "I can't believe I left my window open."_

_"Well, it's a good thing that you did. Now, come on. Unless you want to be staring down the barrel of a gun belonging to a CEDA official."_

_That seemed to be all the motivation I needed. Picking up Boodles, I put on a pair of my canvas boots and followed the Hunter out, after he helped force Roy out of the door frame again. I hadn't noticed the sounds he cause it to make as it cracked due to the pressure of his body mass._

_"Girl come with us?" he asked me as I exited with the two of them, heading back toward the exit._

_"Yes, Roy. Girl is gonna come to the base with us." The Hunter smiled kindly at his friend. "Lucky for you, the area is clear of any Infected. There are just a few piles of bodies, but you'll have to get used to them. Those will be everywhere you go. On the way, I suppose I can tell you a bit about how my friend and I got into our predicament. Maybe we could help you, and explain to you why you're a Witch and not either dead or a common zombie. How about that...?"

* * *

_

_And that, my friends, was it. For the next twelve days, I was under the constant supervision of Jeremy and Roy, as well as a rather familiar-looking Infected. It was the same kind that bit me: a Smoker. I had to admit, I was terrified of him for three full days before I could see that he meant me no harm. His name was Ryan, and he was usually in charge of going out to get provisions for our group, which hid out on the upper level of a deserted, and rather fancy, apartment complex. Meat was a forbidden option, since it couldn't be cooked and, according to Jeremy, raw meat had the same effect on an Infected as an open wound on a human body did.  
_

_I was almost in utter shock how educated Jeremy was, though his temper did get in the way of me admiring him. He sometimes broke into violent rages, ranting about the smallest things, and Roy would have to escort me out. When he was calm, however, he was rather kind and did his best in educating me on what he believed to be true about the Infected. From what he told me, his claims seemed pretty valid._

_"Now listen, tenderfoot." He seemed to love that nickname for me. "I think it'd be best if you knew all about the other Infected as well as yourself. You might just survive longer. Anyway, all 'Special Infected,' as CEDA calls us, are created depending on certain criteria. This list is a big lot of hoopla, but it makes quite a bit of sense if you take a look at myself, Roy, and Ryan. All who catch the Green Flu are destined to lose control to the effects, and then eventually die from it. However, we suffer from it over a longer period of time than common Infected, too. Our lifespan is much longer than a common Infected, and the disease takes longer to fully take advantage of our bodies. You, tenderfoot, just happen to be a carrier, as are the rest of the little troupe we have here..."_

_Jeremy went on for hours about his observations and knowledge, and I listened to every word, just like a young boy being taught to shoot a BB gun for the first time. He told me all he knew about the disease, and how carriers became what they became in regards to 'Special Infected.' Hunters, like him, are created from men who suffer from severe emotional outbursts, such as anger. That definitely helped to explain Jeremy's fierce temper. High blood pressure can also cause a carrier to become a Hunter. _

_Smokers were created from - you guessed it - smokers! Anyone with tobacco or certain other drugs in their systems underwent painful coughing spells when being first infected, an easy indicator of what their fate would be. Ryan had smoked cigarettes, Cuban cigars, and the occasional ounce of marijuana for years, so it was obvious that this role was made for him. Female Smokers were extremely rare to see, since the Infection had a knack for taking their gender out first. _

_Tanks were created out of aggressive men with relatively large body masses. I learned later that Roy was a man trained to fight in mixed martial arts competitions, and he was a fantastic fighter at that. Now, he was so strong, he could easily lift a car, or pull a piece of concrete right from the ground. I had to admit, that scared the living daylights out of me._

_Boomers, a type I had never heard about, were created from those who were overweight. They were extremely common in the world of Infected, and to tell you the truth, devout reader, with the amount of obesity in the world, I didn't doubt that for a bit. It was strange that it took me a week into my turning to see one for myself. Apparently, not only can gunshots cause them to explode, but they can cause themselves to do it as well. How lovely..._

_Jeremy went on to explain the other types of Infected - Spitters, and Jockeys, and maybe two others that I can't remember - before he focused on me. According to him, I was extremely lucky to even be alive with what he called the "Witch's Curse." Only females could become Witches, but most either blended into the Common Infected, died too quickly, or were killed off too easily. A rare amount were still around to let the disease fester within them. And all of them always seemed to be found in their bras and panties. Why? The longer you are a Witch, the higher your internal body temperature becomes. Plain and simple: it's a method to keep from overheating._

_Witches are usually detected by the sounds of their crying, and they will lash out at anyone who provokes them. Yeah, I've heard that one, Jeremy._

_"But, why do they cry?"_

_"Well, I'd assume they're afraid of their fate. They are slowly dying, but when a human comes across them, they are strangely more intimidated by the barrel of a gun than slowly dying on their own. After they wipe out the unlucky human, they run for dead life."_

_Now, I bet you must be wondering why I am so _blase _about knowing that I will soon face death. Yet, think of it in this light: my parents have disappeared and are possibly dead, my friends are either dead or have been snared in the Green Flu's grasp, any hopes of the life I wanted to live since I was younger have been dashed in just a short amount of time, and to top it all off, I look like something straight out of a Rob Zombie horror movie. No pun intended in regards to the name. _

_So, tell me: faced with these circumstances, would you honestly want to stay alive? Would you still have hope that you'd be saved, even though you are virtually alone and any possible treatment or cure is in CEDA's clenched hands?_

_I thought not._

_And trust me, dear reader, my story has barely begun. I have given you enough information to continue on your own. All I can ask is that you not pity me, because that never cured or helped anyone...  
_


	3. Staring Down The Barrel

b., things don't look too good for Jody, huh? Well, things are about to change. As for the names of these new characters coming up, they come from a Left 4 Dead mod, and rights have been given to me thanks to a dear friend. I owe you one, bro. Sorry I didn't wait to get the correct names for you; I couldn't wait any longer to start writing. (Can you tell that _this _fanfiction also came from a roleplay? xD)

**Chapter Three: Staring Down The Barrel**

Since Jody's rescue, one more week had passed. By now, an ordinary Infected would have been on the verge of death. Yet the young Witch was still alive, though this 'benefit' hadn't come without a price. With each passing day, her depression worsened, and her skin continued to turn until it was ghostly white, blotched with gray and white thanks to a lack of bathing. She could easily go to an apartment down the hall, but the more common types of Infected often chose to wander aimlessly through the building, and the others knew, with the unwillingness to kill, she wouldn't stand a chance. Too embarrassed to have others see her, she had secluded herself to the closet of the apartment she and the few other Infected were sharing. It seemed almost all of her comrades sympathized were her, being the only female in their group, and the only type of Infected with emotions that could not be controlled regardless of how hard they tried. The only one who didn't find her behavior acceptable? Jeremy.

Sitting on the sill of a cracked window, he appeared to be staring out at the area below them, though his eyes had long ago rotted away. Growling softly to himself, he chose to sit and relax instead of pacing in anger. "She's still in the closet, isn't she?" he asked, as if he meant to point out the obvious. His voice contained nothing but pure disgust, having lost patience with Jody days ago.

"Jody upset," Roy answered, not getting the clue that the question was most likely rhetorical. "She scared and want help? Can blame her?"

The Hunter groaned. "Dammit, that girl can't stay in there in a closet, crying! I don't care if she _is _scared. Did she forget we're all in the same predicament as her?!" Jeremy pounded his clawed fist into the window ledge he sat on, cracking the concrete. "She's Infected, like the rest of us. There's no use bitching about it everyday. Not to mention she's a _Witch_; they'll take her out if they find her in there. She needs to suck it up and get some courage, and some self-respect wouldn't hurt either." Hopping swiftly off the ledge, he skulked to the closet and pounded on the door. "Jody! Get out of there!"

No answer. Only sobbing.

"Jody, get your ass out of the closet!" Still no answer.

Screeching out in complete disgust and fury, the Hunter turned and directed his rage on the Smoker that stood behind him, Ryan, knocking him on his behind. The creature narrowed its soulless eyes at the Hunter, before stumbling up. "Watch it, man," it hissed, followed up by hoarse coughing. "I know you have a temper, but you don't have to frickin' unleash upon me or Roy."

Jeremy seethed, opening his fanged mouth to speak out in protest, but closed it quickly when he felt the rise of a screech in his throat. "Fine, whatever." Parking himself back on the windowsill, he yanked his hood over his head. "I don't have the fucking time to waste arguing with you..."

"Boss!" Roy pointed out the window, once again forgetting that his 'leader' was blind. Jumping up and down excitedly, every Infected in the building felt it, and the troupe could hear some taking off in fear of their lives.

Hearing this, the Hunter laughed a bit to himself, before something outside caught his attention as well. He could hear footsteps. He could hear human voices and guns being reloaded. Even better than that, he could smell something that he hadn't caught whiff of in so long: freshly opened wounds.

"Survivors..." A grin darted over his lips, tapered fangs jutting from them.

Ryan's eyes widened and he gazed out the window, being forced into another coughing fit but smiling nonetheless. "...Have you guys noticed that survivors seem to like traveling in groups of four?" he asked out of the blue.

"Ryan, shut the hell up." Obviously, Jeremy didn't have the time to have a sense of humor. "Guys, this could be our chance." Looking back at the closet for several seconds, he let out a sigh of hopelessness and shook his head. "I'm gonna take a risk and see if I can get them to come here and help up. And please, at least try to get that girl out of the clo-" _SCREEEECH! _ Panicking, Jeremy clamped his hands over his mouth, taking a moment to recollect before pouncing out the window, scaling down the building, and stealthily sneaking toward the survivors. He had meant beforehand to merely slink down the apartment complex and walk toward them. _Off to a great start, you damn idiot..._

_

* * *

  
_

"Aye, stop and listen for a sec'," one of the troupe said, shushing his comrades. He was an Irishman, a man who used to be the owner of a small pub before the Infection broke out. One of his beefy hands tightened its grip of the hunting rifle he held. "I coulda sworn I 'eard the cry of a Huntah..."

"There has to be more than just a Hunter out here, Erik," another one added, appearing to be a rather tall and lanky schoolteacher, thanks to the torn-up suit. "I hear something else, with a different tonality."

_You cocky bastard_, a third survivor thought, pushing his filthy black and green-dyed locks back and away from his eyes. He was the youngest of the troupe's members, a boy by the name of Lucas Tanner. When he had first joined with his teacher, the pub owner, and one of the pub's waitresses, the latter of the two had mistaken him to be a Hunter. However, his forest-green hoodie, embellished on the front right breast, and covered by a band's cloth patch safety-pinned on the back, was the tipoff. Now the garment was covered in blood and the right sleeve was torn at the middle. A pair of broken headphones hung around his neck, to his dismay for the lack of music, the one thing that could relax him. Just by giving him one look over, anyone could tell that his bad-boy narcissism had died long ago.

"When do we get to the evac' station, you guys?" he asked, his voice cracked and indicating that he would soon lose control and break down. "Are we even close?"

The schoolteacher, a man by the name of Victor, shot a glare at the teen. "Can't you be patient for five minutes?" he snapped. "Honestly, you don't need to act seven years old, Lucas."

"Hmm, can I be patient...?" The punk shot a glare back, countering that of his former teacher. "Of course not, you idiot. I'm fighting for my life here! Or did you forget what we're dealing with these days?"

"Guys, be quiet!" The waitress seemed to shrink several inches in fear. "I hear something...and it's close."

_Yes it is, my dear_, an almost-silent Jeremy thought, swiftly licking his dried lips. Having hopped down from the side of the building, he crept behind a large sedan parked several yards away, peering out at the survivors and plotting what to do next. It wasn't as if he meant to attack; he knew he and his group needed someone to help them. The moment they came close enough to his location, he could smell their blood, and felt his control begin to drain. His nails began to grow sharper, longer, but he refused to move, growling out loud enough for the group to hear.

"Shit, I do, too," Lucas said, reaching into the bag that was slung over his shoulder, his trembling hands fumbling to grab a jar of bile. "Just tell me when to spew..." It was almost a hopeless attempt for him to keep his cool.

The moment Jeremy heard Lucas' reaction, followed by the loading of someone's gun, he could then hear his heartbeat, still lively, like a pounding drum inside his ears. That moment, his sanity had been exterminated for good. Licking his grinning lips once more, he pounced just a few feet from the group, right behind them.

"HUNTER!" Victor and the waitress seemed to cry out in unison, being the first ones to spot him. All but Lucas opened fire on Jeremy. Three guns erupted in thunderous chorus on him. It was just another philosophy that each survivor lived by: kill anything that moves or sneaks up on you. Just as Jeremy had lost control and couldn't think twice about his actions, there seemed to necessity for the survivors to ponder over their own.

Meanwhile, several stories up, Ryan and Roy watched in shock as their leader lay in a bloodied, bullet-filled mess on the hard pavement. If possible, Jeremy was far beyond dead. With a sigh, Ryan slurped up his tongue and turned to his friend, placing a boil-covered hand on his rock-hard shoulder. A smile slowly formed on his lips, a small one void of any true happiness, but still a smile. "Well...heh, I guess it's just you, me, and Jody," he said softly to the behemoth. Truth be told, the Smoker was absolutely terrified. He knew damn well they were going to be next.

"Anything down there to distract people?" Roy asked, his head 'hanging' in hopelessness.

"I think I saw a couple of Boomers out there earl-"

"BOOMER!"

"There's two o' them bastards!"

The ground shook again, this time as each of the bloated Infected were shot on the spot by the survivors below. Growling, Ryan's bumpy palm met his face. "Stupid buggers," he grumbled. Holding his breath, he walked toward the door, the only exit to the room. If there were Infected in the hallway, he knew he could take them easily. Right now, it was a matter of getting help, and Ryan hoped he would a have a bit more reserve than his fallen friend. "You'll be fine up here on your own," he said, turning back to Roy with one hand on the doorknob. "If I don't make it back, and those guys make it here, protect Jody."

The Tank paused, as if thinking of a proper response, before settling with one curt nod. Ryan nodded back, before making his way out into the surprisingly clear hallway, hoping the same path wouldn't lead to his own ugly demise. Reaching the stairs for the fire emergency route to the ground floor, he pushed the door open carefully. Sure, the alarm had ceased to work a long time ago, but the heavy steel door would still make a decent amount of noise if not eased open and shut. Still, the Smoker refused to take risks. Kicking the door stop down with one of his Cuban heels, he let out a sigh of relief when it stuck. He had about six sets of stairs to sneak down, and was about to take the first step, when an all too close for comfort voice echoed through the passageway.

"Lucas, stop worrying about having bile on you," Vincent snapped. "You're lucky that there aren't very many Infected down there to be attracted by it, and that that second Boomer wasn't fast enough."

"You know what, teach?" the teen hissed. "I'm so sick and tired of your shit. Do you think I have the best state of mind to deal with your fucking logical explanations to _everything_?!"

"Both o' yas, shut it." Erik coughed, the smell of death around him becoming all too effective on his asthma.

Ryan's yellow eyes widened in fear as he heard not only the survivors' bickering, but their footsteps as they progressed up the stairs. He could smell their blood, and while it was almost intoxicating to him, he was able to get a bit more control over himself. The Infected began to back up toward the exit he had originally taken, but felt the one thing that he could not control billow up and escape his throat several moments too late: a coughing fit. Ryan couldn't possibly run like this. His growth-covered hand found the door frame, clutching it for dear life as he tried, tears of panic streaming from his eyes, to move behind away from the doorway.

"Smoker!" The young waitress shrieked as she spotted the poor Smoker, at the bottom of the final flight of stairs. Grinning, Vincent and Erik opened fire once again, filling the air with lead. Ryan's body seemed to spasm as each bullet pierced his flesh, and as several final bullets found home in the growths on his neck, he dropped to the floor with one final wheeze. A 'smoke,' with the scent reminiscent of putrid, rotting flesh and cigars, filled the air, as well as the survivors' lungs. Each one coughed, and rushed past it into the hallway to escape it. The same hallway Ryan was hoping to guard and bring aid to.

Back in the room, Roy's body seemed to jolt at hearing the rounds of bullets. There was no doubt about it: another friend had failed. A hopeless frown crossed his lips, and for a moment the Tank stared from the closet door, to the room's only exit. Should he stay there, and protect the girl, or go out into the hallway and get avenge his friends...?

At that point in time, the latter seemed to be much more logical. There was a drunk, a tiny woman, a scrawny teacher, and a teen boy outside in the hallway, patrolling it for a safer route to the roof. He could take them. He was, in fact, a Tank. An _enraged_ Tank. Growling, unable to hold back his emotion, he charged through the doorway, knocking the flimsy wooden door from its hinges and following the scent of fresh blood and reaching the survivors, who all stood dumbstruck for a moment.

"Where the fuck did _that_ come from?!" Erik cried, backing up and almost tripping in the process.

"Guys, I got it!" Lucas stepped forward, this time determined to both play and _be_ the hero. Pulling a Molotov from his jacket pocket, he threw it smack dab on the floor at Roy's feet, backing up hastily with his troupe as he watched the Tank go up in flames. Roy roared out in a mixture of pain and anger, two things you never wanted to cause a Tank if you valued your life. The liquid inside the cocktail had splashed into Roy's eyes, and he stumbled around blindly, tearing at them with his wide, stub-like nails as if seeing didn't matter to him. Smashing into the walls, he kept attempting to charge forward, only to be welcomed by an onslaught of rounds fired into his body. One rogue bullet pierced though his lower body and into his heart, bringing the burning behemoth to the ground.

With a sigh of relief, Vincent hesitated before finally opening his mouth. "Nice one, Tanner."

Lucas grinned, his ego having been one-upped by helping to bring down one of the most fearsome types of Infected out there. "In the battle of Man vs. Tank-"

"Obnoxious kid won," Erik finished, narrowing his hazel eyes at the teen. "Don' get cocky, Luc'." Listening carefully, the pub owner checked if there were any other possible threats residing on the floor, and let out a sigh. "Well, that room's empty, I'm pretty sure. Let's take a bit of a rest in 'ere." Gesturing for the others to follow, he made his way into the late Infected's 'base of operations.'

"We should be safe in here..."

* * *

Jody pressed her ear to the door, staying in terrified silence as she heard the commotion outside. Clamping her hands over her ears and shuffling away from the door, she merely sat there, staring at her only exit. The exit which would lead to her own death.

"T-they're gone..." she whimpered, curling up into a ball. "They're all gone...no...!" She punched the ground, hearing her knuckles crack and hissing in pain. Biting her bottom lip, she held back a growl that would accompany the hiss, not wanting the survivors outside to hear. Then again, what was the point? They'd stake out the area and find her, and deliver a few blows to the head before she was left there to rot. Feeling absolutely hopeless, she did what any Witch would normally do: cry.

"Well-well, we 'ave a Witch." The Irishman grunted as he pulled out his flask of whiskey and took a sip from it. "Lucas, would ya mind...?"

The teen rolled his eyes and got up from the semi-comfortable floor. The survivors had all taken turns 'crowning' Witches they came across, and although Lucas believed that doing most of the work in bringing down a Tank earned him a get-out-of-jail-free pass, it was all for naught. Either way, the only good Witch was a dead Witch. Claiming his auto-shotgun and pumping it with fresh shells, Lucas followed the sound of the sobbing to a nearby closet and moved in for the kill...

...with flashlight in hand.

"Umm... Lucas... the light!!!" It was too late, Lucas swung the door open and flashed the bright beacon upon the pale Witch.

"...shit."

"_Please don't shoot!_"


	4. No Hope For the Downtrodden

**So after (Jesus Christmas!) three and a half months of no updates, I finally have the next chapter of GHtO. Thank you to my devoted fans who have kept checking up and have stayed with me through this, and I apologize to those of you who lost interest in waiting. If you give this a chance, hopefully, I'll regain your interest.**

**Chapter Four: No Hope For the Downtrodden**

The four survivors stood, mouths agape, staring at the pathetic yet shocking display before them. They all had to be dreaming, suffering from some sort of contagion. Did that Witch just...speak? No angered shriek or lunge came from her. The creature merely cried pitifully and threw her arms up in surrender.

Lucas' grip on his shotgun went weak, causing him to send the weapon falling to the floor with a metallic clank. What was he to do? Was there anything he _could _actually do? As if wishing for an answer, Lucas turned to his comrades, all just as confused as he was.

"Maybe...she's not fully infected?" the teen suggested.

"Can some people only have a partial infection?" Vincent's brow rose, before his gaze wandered to the Irishman beside him, who was shaking his head slowly.

"No...that can't be right."

"Well, she's infected either way."

"What's that supposed to imply?" Lucas asked, glaring at his former teacher, his voice low and strained in a desperate attempt to hold back some anger.

"Shoot the damn thing! Put it out of its misery!"

Thing? Jody sighed. She didn't expect to be treated like anything short of a monster. Becoming infected had forever stripped her of the ability to still be considered a person. She was no longer a she, merely an 'it.' She looked up at her soon-to-be deliverer of peace, who seemed to be in the midst of an internal battle. Even though the blinding beacon of the flashlight had handicapped her sight for the time being, in the back of her mind, something about this survivor seemed oddly familiar to her...

Lucas let out a sigh. Put this Witch out of its misery... While it seemed like the noble thing to do, just thinking of himself ousting a creature that begged him for mercy made him nauseous. She was coherent, and each survivor in the room knew that. She had intelligence. She still had a soul and the desire to live...

The boy shook his head, his unwashed green and black locks bouncing slightly. "I can't...I can't do it," he said, voice cracking. "She's still human."

When she heard the other three survivors break out in a commotion, as if they were the jury to decide her fate, Jody whimpered. The odds to be spared certainly weren't in her favor. Nonetheless, she still had to appeal to them, to try and get them to trust her.

"I swear, I won't hurt any of you," the 'Witchling' swore, rubbing her eyes so she could actually see. "I'm not like the others with the disease. Please give me a-"

Jody's glowing garnet eyes went wide in shock as every detail of her possible future tomb came in full and clear. However, the one thing she was staring at was Lucas. He couldn't possibly be who she thought he was. "...Lucas?"

The teen froze, turning his anxiety-flushed face toward the Witch. She knew his name. "...How do you know me?"

Jody let out a sigh of relief. So she hadn't gone crazy just yet. "Lucas, please say you recognize me," she begged. "It's me. Jody!"

Lucas gaped in absolute disbelief at her, umber eyes widened. There was only one Jody he knew: the cocky, paint-splattered girl from high school that had been his closest friend. If she really was who she said she was, this fate seemed far too unfair for such a girl. "Jody..." Lucas felt as if he would choke. "It...this can't be you."

Jody tried to muster a smile, but a sharp tooth poked out and pricked at her lower lip. "Lucas, it _is _me..." She slowly rose to her feet, which only resulted in the three spectators forcing the ends of their weapons in her direction. Tears flooded her eyes. "I never thought I'd see someone like you..."

"Lucas, ya know this thing?" Erik spat bitterly.

"This _girl _is a very good friend of mine," the punk hissed, glaring back at the Irishman.

"...You have friends?" Vincent gave a cocky smirk.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Lucas was one of my best friends in high school," Jody spoke up, mostly to quell the pointless arguing between the survivors. She cringed as she listened to herself talk. The Green Flu was taking its toll on what was left of her health, making her voice scratchy. "Thank god, you haven't caught the Infection."

"Heh, naw," Lucas said, giving a simple 'pshaw' gesture with his hand. "This stupid case of dandruff ain't gonna take me down." Ignoring the crude remarks from his comrades, Lucas looked over Jody over and over. She looked absolutely terrible. However, it wasn't because of the disease itself. She could look like a Boomer, and he wouldn't think any less of her. What truly bothered him was at how much the misery of falling victim to the Infection had done to her. With a sigh, he yanked his hoodie off and approached his Witch friend, wrapping the garment around her shoulders. "You must be freezing..."

"Are ya 'onestly gonna 'elp this creature?!" Erik grunted.

"Yes, I am," the teen said in a deathly low tone, "and I won't listen to any comments from any of you. She's coming with us. That's that."

"She's infected!" the waitress piped up.

"We can help her!" Lucas' hand found itself resting on Jody's bony shoulder. "We can find a cure to save her!" His last statement was more of a blurt of randomness, though he secretly prayed that he could help his friend.

"Still as naive as always..." Jody sighed and gave her shoulder a small nudge up, forcing Lucas' hand off. "You know CEDA doesn't have a cure. And even if they did, what reason would they have to give it to some teenager?" She pushed her dirty hair behind her ear, gazing up at her friend with a hopeless gaze.

"CEDA abandoned us, Lucas. You know that." Vincent leaned against the wall, not at all willing for this idle chatter to continue for much longer.

"Teach, shut up," Lucas growled. "The chopper's coming soon, ain't it? We'll bring Jody with us. Maybe if we can get Jody to a CEDA official, and show him that she's not dangerous, they could try and help her!"

"You know we can't take this Witch onto the chopper."

Fed up with Vincent's refusal to recognize Jody as more than a Witch, Lucas reached down for his auto-shotgun resting on the floor. He raised it, a glint of rage in his eyes. "Her name is Jody, you fucking idiot. And we're bringing her with us. Don't make me shoot you, because I am _so _close."

"Lucas, he's right." Jody rested her clawed hand on the arm Lucas used to hold the gun. "He's absolutely right. Even if the chopper is able to get here, the pilot is not going to let me on. The best I can do is get you guys to the roof where the chopper could pick you up. Most Infected know not to mess with a Witch."

Lucas sighed. He would let his friend have her moment of hopelessness, but he was not getting on any form rescue vehicle without Jody going with him. Smirking, hearing of their well-assured safety around other Infected with this Witch around, Lucas turned to the others. "Well, I say that qualifies as a good reason to have her escort us, right?" he asked. Groaning and rolling his eyes when he heard the dissatisfied grumblings, he placed his hands on Jody's shoulders and gingerly nudged her toward the door. "Don't worry," he whispered. "You'll get on that chopper. I swear it." With a smile, he stopped the young Witch in the hallway and pulled the hoodie off her shoulders, giving it to her to put on completely.

"...Thank god for you, Lucas," Jody said softly, slipping her arms through the garment. After receiving a nod of a response, and checking to see if the others had followed, she treaded ever so quietly toward the stairwell. Her eyes constantly darted back and forth, making sure that the next few feet were clear of any activity before proceeding. All the while, she stayed a few feet ahead of Lucas, who had kept himself closest to her. _Just get them to the roof so they can get the hell out of here_, she told herself. _That's all I want._

Suddenly, Jody halted herself, raising one hand in front of the group, palm in their direction. Seeing this, they stopped immediately. "Be quiet," she warned, before her superior hearing picked up on the sound of a familiar growl. One that a certain comrade of hers used to throw out left and right.

"...Hunter." The Witch's lower lip quivered in intimidation.

"Well, swell, Luc'," Vincent quipped. "You bring this Witch with us, and she leads us right into a trap. How desperate are you to die?"

"Shut up," Lucas hissed. He knew better than to immediately point fingers at his fallen friend. Back in their old high school, Lucas trusted her more than anyone else, and that trust wouldn't falter for a minute here. Slamming a new magazine into his rifle, the punk readied himself for the undead hoodlum to come pouncing at them. He pressed himself against a wall, turning toward the rest of the party. "So, what's the plan then?" he asked them. "Go out with guns a-blazin'?"

"I like that plan," Erik said with a crooked grin, readying a pump shotgun held in his thick hands.

"Be careful, all of you," Jody whispered sharply. "As much as I hate doing it, remember, I can take out this creature myself with greater ease, and attract less attention from other Infected in the area." She could hear the Hunter's growls getting louder, as well as the sound of nails scratching on brick. That beast was scaling the walls of the building, possibly looking for them.

Lucas smirked. If Jody could take out one Infected without causing a commotion, that would be fantastic. "Well, you know we have your back if things get mess-"

Each troupe member's blood went ice cold as they heard the shattering of a window. Jody peered behind the corner, spotting the Hunter, crouch-skulking toward them. It looked up at her with its empty sockets and a bloodthirsty grin, ready to pounce. It could smell the blood and remnants of Boomer bile on the hoodie Jody wore, making this opportunity all the more seductive. Lucas' eyes went wide in panic as he stared at Jody, desperately wanting to put himself in front of her. She had been through enough as it was.

Yet, he was stopped when Jody seemed to read his mind, putting out her hand behind her and giving Lucas a hard push back, almost knocking him off his feet. "G-get back, guys!" This seemed to be the trigger to set the Hunter off, pressing its bare, clawed feet hard against the floor and launching itself at the young Witch. Letting out a horrified, deafening scream, she responded by closing her eyes and swinging her right hand through the air. The next sounds she heard were panicked gurgling sounds, which brought her to open her eyes again. One of her claws had cut through the Hunter's neck like a knife through butter, and was now wrapping its hands around the wound as if to stop the bleeding, yet from the look of the cut, it was amazing that the creature's head wasn't dangling from the neck. Stumbling back, it landed on its rear end, before finally falling back with one last wet hiss.

Jody gazed over her shoulder, seeing each of her comrades' jaws hanging agape. A few seconds passed, as they finally absorbed what had happened, and Lucas decided to speak up first. "Damn..." he said with a chuckle. "Now, you all gotta admit that was awesome." With a smile, he gave the Witch a proud pat on the shoulder, who was too busy staring back down at her nails, dripping with brown-tinted blood.

"Wull, les' just 'ope that one Witch can aid us 'gainst the 'Orde," Erik commented. Weapon clutched tightly in his meaty hands, he headed over to the open door to the stairwell, and saw, to his relief, that it was clear. Motioning with one hand, the others followed him, Lucas pulling Jody along by the wrist, snapping her out of her horrified daze.

Apart from that single Hunter, there were very few threats in front of the troupe. It was certainly nothing that the four original members couldn't handle with a sprinkling of bullets, although Jody was needed on deck just in case. In less than ten minutes, the five were on the roof. Jody and the waitress checked the skies, while the three men barricaded the door to the roof with a rusty water barrel and some large pieces of lumber that were scattered across the ground.

Narrowing her eyes, the next thing that Jody saw could have just as well been an angel. A black speck in the brown sky began to grow larger and larger, and the sounds of a propeller beating at the air echoed through the Witch's ears. "Guys, the chopper!" she exclaimed, pointing at it with a clawed finger.

Lucas walked away from the makeshift barricade and hustled up to Jody's side, smiling widely. "I knew we'd be able to get out of here," he said. "You're home free, Jodes."

_SCREEEEEEEEEECH! _Jody gasped, looking at the others. They also seemed to know what was going on. Jody looked over the side of the roof, seeing what looked like hundreds of Infected charging over each other, rushing through the open doors of the building's lower floor. The Horde was coming, and the helicopter seemed to be moving at a snail's pace.

"Shit!" Erik backed away from the door, as did the others as the sounds of growling and screeching got louder. It would only be a matter of time before they broke through.

"We have to try and get the chopper to drop down here," Vincent said, looking up toward the sky. The aircraft was getting closer, though it lacked a clear destination. At this point, it was simply surveying the area. With a huff of a sigh, the teacher looked down at the group. "You two," he began, pointing at the two female members of their group, "try and signal the chopper down. We'll watch the door."

The two looked at each other, just gave one curt nod to the other, and began to scream out to the helicopter, waving their hands in the air and jumping up and down to get the pilot's attention. Both of them had tears in their eyes, as if deep down, they had a feeling that they wouldn't be seen. However, a loud voice booming through the air convinced them otherwise.

"**WE SEE YOU DOWN THERE**," the pilot announced over the intercom of the helicopter. "**WE'LL BE THERE IN A FEW MOMENTS. PLEASE HOLD ON UNTIL THEN!**"

The two females' smiles soon faded as they heard bodies colliding with the steel door leading to the roof. Both turned around, just in time to see the barrel being knocked over and rolling away. Soon after, the door burst open, and a crowd of Infected fought their way toward the survivors and Jody.

"You guys go ahead," the Witch said out loud, pushing herself in front of the others, who had already started shooting. "I'll hold 'em off!" This time, she began to swing her claws left and right, not caring how much blood she was being sprayed with, or how many lives she was taking.

"You're coming, too," Lucas called, feeling his hair blowing in the wind as the chopper grew closer. He pushed forward to stand by Jody's side, continuing his multi-shelled assault on the waves of Infected while the others sank to the back edge of the roof.

Within several more minutes, the helicopter was just hovering a foot from the roof, and the three more inactive members of the troupe pushed themselves onto the craft, unbeknownst to the other two, who were still fighting for their lives. When Lucas turned, though, he spotted it and was instantly infuriated. He'd be damned if they left Jody and him behind to suffer; he had to at least get his friend to safety. Yet, the struggle to fall back toward safety was becoming more and more difficult, as greater numbers of Infected hurled themselves at the two.

"**WE GOTTA GO, KID!**" The pilot of the helicopter grabbed onto the input device of the intercom, sending his warning to the teen. "**LEAVE THAT BITCH BEHIND AND LET'S GO!**"

"He's right, Lucas," Jody grunted as she finished off even more Infected charging toward her. "You can...still make it! I'm...beyond...saving. Either you leave now...ugh! or you get stuck in this city with me...we struggle to survive, and eventually die somehow." The Witch's eyes stung with salty tears. "I'm not going...to let you die!"

"Dammit, I'm not leaving you behind, Jody!" Lucas cried back in protest. Forcibly, he tried to push Jody back toward the chopper with the butt of his gun, ignoring the protests from the pilot and other survivors who had already obtained safety. Yet, as he pushed, Lucas failed to notice the worst possible possible thing that could happen at a time like this. He felt a warm, constricting feeling around his torso, which contracted rather quickly. "Nonononoooo!" He dug his nails into the ground, trying to fight back against his fleshy bond. A Smoker had fought its way to the doorway from the stairwell as the Horde had and had gotten a good grasp on him, pulling him away from the group. In a panic, the pilot began to take off, Vincent closing the door with a loud slam.

Ignoring this, and finishing off another Infected, Jody turned around. To her horror, Lucas was in the grasp of a Smoker, trying to block off swipes from its filthy claws. As if some kind of circuit had been connected, Jody growled, her eyes glowing bright red. With a hiss, she pushed her way past the other Infected, knocking them either off the building or back against the edge with a hard collision. She cried, before slicing through the Smoker's tongue with one claw and giving it a hard kick to the pulsing growth on its chest, sending it flying over the edge of the building. Her ears could even pick up the sickening crack the creature's body made as it hit the pavement.

"J-Jody..."

The Witch turned around, one hand covering her mouth, seeing a scratched up, bloodied Lucas trying to reach for his shotgun with a trembling hand, while his lungs fought off the cloud of airborne Smoker poison. "R-ru...un..."

"Dammit, Lucas..." Jody hissed out, wheezing and coughing through the smoke cloud. "I'm not...letting you be...the one to give up now." Opening her stinging eyes, she gasped when she saw a certain familiar metal cylinder hanging from Lucas' belt. A pipe bomb. Running over, she yanked it out, and reached into the pocket of the hoodie she still wore. Thank god - matches! Snapping one off, she struck it against her razor claw, smiling when it caught fire before lighting the explosive and throwing it off the side of the building. "This had better work!"

Their attention diverted, the remaining members of the Horde jumped off the building like lemmings off a cliff. All either hit the pavement and died instantly, or fell within several feet of the bomb. Hearing the beeping become more rapid, Jody covered her ears, trying to protect her ears and stay standing straight as the explosive went off. Now, there was only silence. Rushing over, Jody took Lucas' body and gingerly pulled him out of the Smoker cloud and into the fresher air, resting him against the roof's ledge.

The boy groaned. He felt absolutely terrible. He panted heavily, trying to regain his breath both from the Smoker gas and the constriction around his midsection. Gashes covered his arms, and one ran from the base of his right ear down to the middle of his neck. Not only this, but the exhaustion of running for his life the whole day had finally caught up with him, as did the devastation of being abandoned by the others. Lucas was beginning to feel as if a large lead weight was pressing down on him.

"Lucas, stay here..." Jody whisper, carefully moving the dirty hair from the boy's face before running toward the stairwell. Dashing back to the room she had been found in, she remembered a health pack that was in the back of the closet and grabbed it before sprinting back to the stairs. Jumping up every other step to reach the roof faster, she took a moment to catch her breath before kneeling back down beside Lucas. She ripped up the red material exterior of the health pack, checking the inside. By now, she should have memorized the contents of the pack: bandages, a bottle of pain pills, gauze, a small bottle of spray-able disinfectant, and a bottle of water.

Cutting open the bottle of pills, Jody grabbed two, and gently pushed them, one after the other, into Lucas' mouth. She then rose the bottle to his lips. "Drink up," she said. "These will help until we can get someplace safer. Should last for an hour or two."

"Nngh..." Lucas groaned in pain between the feedings of pills He couldn't help but inwardly laugh at the past days in high school, when Jody would play the nurse and help him through both sickness and injury alike. It didn't matter what reckless act he had performed; after being reprimanded firmly, he wouldn't be rid of her until she saw some believable proof of recovery. It was a breath of fresh air to know that regardless of the Green Flu coursing through Jody's veins, very little had changed in regards to her personality.

With a weak smile, and after swallowing the water, Lucas rested his head on Jody's shoulder. She smiled, and allowed the gesture, placing one clawed hand over his. Yet, regardless of the expression on her lips, the one in her eyes told a very different story. They held uncertainty, anxiety. Fear. They had been left behind to die. A survivor left in the care of an Infected, who dreaded every single day when the disease inside her would take her sanity and turn her against him. Every nerve in her body told her not to cry, and for now, she would remain calm.

God only knew when she would eventually snap...

**So yeah... I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. And I'm so sorry for the wait. Let me know what you guys think, and next time, I'll try to update sooner. Thank you!**


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